


if you want it (scream and shout it)

by thespianok



Series: soothes the soul [1]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Wings, Anal Sex, Bottom Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Explicit Sexual Content, First Time, M/M, Riding, Top Jaskier | Dandelion, Wing Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-20
Updated: 2020-03-20
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:46:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23229592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thespianok/pseuds/thespianok
Summary: Jaskier hooks his fingers in Geralt’s mouth, drags him closer by his teeth, and Geralt lets him. It’s harder to thrust properly like this, but Geralt slows his hips into a deep grind, and Jaskier drags him closer still, so that he’s able to get a hand around Geralt’s back. By now, Jaskier knows that Geralt loves a little spike of pain with his pleasure, so he doesn’t hesitate in grabbing a tuft of feathers on Geralt’s right wing, grasping it hard andtugging.Or, Jaskier helps Geralt come to love his wings.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: soothes the soul [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1670191
Comments: 11
Kudos: 282





	if you want it (scream and shout it)

When Geralt is with Jaskier, when Jaskier takes him apart, with his hands, his mouth, his _cock_ \- Geralt can _let go,_ can _come apart_ in a way he’s never allowed himself to before.

The first time, when Geralt is on his back underneath the stars, wings stretched out and tensed and _twitching_ underneath him, Jaskier shows him just how good a tug to the feathers at the base of his wings can feel.

Geralt _moans,_ and Jaskier laughs, breathless, “Just like that, huh?”

“Yeah, _yes,_ Jas _kier.”_

And, _Melitele,_ Jaskier’s thrusts slow into pointed _grinds_ into Geralt, and the slower pace means that Jaskier can focus on driving Geralt insane with his hands, too. He threads one hand into Geralts messy hair and drags his head back into a beautiful arch, then latches his mouth onto Geralt’s neck, licks and sucks off the sweat that rests there. They’re both sweaty and messy and the slick squelch of skin on skin makes Geralt’s ears and cheeks burn but he loves it, loves every sticky second of it.

Every time Jaskier thrusts he brushes against that little bundle of nerves that drives Geralt _wild._ Then, with one hand braced on the floor, Jaskier lets go of Geralt’s hair to bury his hand into _those_ feathers, and Geralt keeps his neck arched and his wings twitch and Jaskier fists _those_ feathers and tugs _hard._

Geralt bucks desperately into the sensation, a whine forces itself out of his throat, and Jaskier pants wildly into his neck because the noises that Geralt lets out make him _weak,_ and he tugs harder, aims his next thrust to touch Geralt just there, and Geralt _comes._ Jaskier doesn’t stop until he’s wrung every ounce of pleasure from Geralt’s body, doesn’t stop until Geralt’s practically _sobbing_ with it.

His hips slow to a stop and he raises his head to look at Geralt’s teary eyes and sweat-slick face, and Geralt is looking at him with such awe, and Jaskier feels a rush of pride, feels it swell in his chest, because Geralt has opened himself up for Jaskier, has not only let him see Geralt at his most vulnerable, but had actively asked Jaskier for it, trusts Jaskier enough to want him.

Geralt was, unsurprisingly, still hard, but he was _sensitive,_ and Jaskier took advantage of that for the rest of the night, bringing Geralt off _twice_ more before they finally settled down to sleep.

But that was the first time.

And now, well, it had been a while since the first time, and Geralt has become a lot more confident, has learned how to ask for what he wants, has learned that he doesn’t have to be _ashamed_ for enjoying himself, and, perhaps most importantly, he has learned that as much as Jaskier loves performing, he also _loves_ being given a show.

Geralt could never do what Jaskier does, could never capture the attention of a whole tavern or street or royal ball, but he could put on a little _performance_ just for an audience of one.

“That’s it, sweetheart, _just_ like that,” Jaskier moans, can’t take his eyes off of the sight in front of him, doesn’t even want to consider looking away for even a second. Geralt is a vision, and Jaskier has never seen anything or anyone more beautiful.

Geralt’s wings are stretched out and arched in a proud display, showing off, showing off for Jaskier, because Jaskier wanted him to, because he feels safe with Jaskier. Geralt’s rocking his hips down in languid little rolls, riding Jaskier slow and sweet, taking his time and taking his _pleasure._ Jaskier’s hands are on his hips, guiding his motions, meeting his thrusts. Geralt’s letting out sweet little sounds every time he bottoms out, eyebrows drawn together and eyes squeezed closed, sweat making strands of silver hair stick to his face.

Geralt tips forwards, bracing his hands on Jaskier’s chest, meeting his eyes. Jaskier holds his gaze, delighting in the fact that Geralt’s eyes are heavy-lidded, wet with pleasure, his pupils blown. Geralt’s mouth drops open with a particularly well-aimed thrust, and Jaskier can’t help himself from sliding two fingers past his lips, pressing down against his tongue. Geralt closes his lips around the fingers and _sucks,_ knowing that Jaskier loves seeing Geralt use his mouth, loves it when Geralt shows off. So that’s what he does, he sucks off Jaskier’s fingers, wet and messy, just how he likes it, moaning weakly at the attention.

Jaskier’s moan of “gorgeous,” is breathless and has Geralt blushing faintly, but he doesn’t duck his head, doesn’t hide from the praise like he used to. He just hollows his cheeks and sucks harder, clenches down around Jaskier’s cock, moans at the full feeling and feels saliva drip down his chin.

Jaskier hooks his fingers in Geralt’s mouth, drags him closer by his teeth, and Geralt lets him. It’s harder to thrust properly like this, but Geralt slows his hips into a deep grind, and Jaskier drags him closer still, so that he’s able to get a hand around Geralt’s back. By now, Jaskier knows that Geralt loves a little spike of pain with his pleasure, so he doesn’t hesitate in grabbing a tuft of feathers on Geralt’s right wing, grasping it hard and _tugging. ___

__Geralt closes his eyes and cries out at the sensation, dick leaking heavily on to Jaskier’s stomach, hot and musky and wet._ _

__“There you go, darling. Look at me,” Jaskier murmurs, and Geralt does so immediately. “Good boy, keep those pretty eyes open.”_ _

__Fuck, Jaskier always knows just what Geralt needs, so he uses the grip that he has on Geralt’s wings to wring _endless_ pleasure out of him, until Geralt is gasping and his face is a mess of spit and tears and his wings are aching in the _best way.__ _

__Geralt is only faintly aware of it the first time comes, the pleasure reaches its peak and doesn’t really ever come down as Jaskier grinds his hips deep into Geralt, grasps his chin tightly with one hand and tugs on his feathers with the other._ _

__Jaskier shakes Geralt’s head a little, getting his attention, and he’s looking at him with such love, such adoration, that Geralt could cry all over again._ _

__“You okay?” Jaskier asks, and Geralt nods with a heavy head, eyes hazy. “Hmm, I’m going to need your words, darling.”_ _

__Geralt’s head lolls to one side and Jaskier chuckles, still waiting for an answer before he continues. When Geralt whispers a desperate little, _“yes, please, keep going,”_ it doesn’t kill him like it used to, to ask for what he wants._ _

__Then Jaskier fulfills Geralt’s command and continues to drive him mad with pure pleasure for the rest of the night._ _

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on tumblr at thespianok for more Witcher content!!
> 
> Comments and Kudos fuel me :)


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